Silent Cry
by Permanent Rose
Summary: Everyone has secrets. Emma Pillsbury is no exception.


_A/N: Since we don't know much about Emma's past, I fabricated this dark little story about a painful secret Emma could've been harboring. It takes place when she is in high school, and I give some further reasons that could've added to her extreme mysophobia, and I explain why Emma might have chosen to be a guidance counselor. _

* * *

They all envy her for her place at the quarterback's side.

She hadn't planned on dating him, really. But the endearing look in his eyes and her craving to fill the emptiness in her life got the best of her. And to this day, she still doesn't know why he sought her, the small shy girl with the flaming hair, out of the crowd of bold blondes and beautiful brunettes.

Maybe it was her lack of confidence. She had never thought of herself as easy-to-get, but he came bearing down on her with such force that it smothered her to silence.

She tells people she fears messes because her brother pushed her into the runoff lagoon at their visit to the dairy farm when she was eight, but that is only partially true.

The other half burns in the pit of her stomach as she suppresses it in the darkest corners of mind.

He started out warm and gentle, delicately caressing her, timidly exploring each curve of her body. They shared stolen kisses, and the sweetness of his breath had her begging for more.

But now she fights tears as his sweating body looms over hers, her bare back pressed tightly to the stained leather seat in the back of his car. Her mind screams in silent pain each time he enters her, but she only lies there, completely still, allowing him to violate her.

She is his plaything, and he pays no heed to her desperate pleads. A single tear slides down her cheek, mixing with her own sweat. It tastes salty as it hits her lips, and she clenches her teeth tightly as she silently begs for it to be over. She reminds herself that she has been through this before—that she always survives, even if just barely.

She slips through the cracks of night, away from his godforsaken car, hours past a curfew she never wanted to break.

In the silence of her house, she locks herself in the bathroom, trembling as she falls to her knees. She pulls back her hair as she gracefully ducks her head over the toilet, neatly obliterating the contents of her stomach. The bile burns her throat as the sour taste of vomit coats her mouth.

The acidic sting hardly bothers her as she rises, steadying herself as she grips the edge of the sink for support. Her stomach feels like an empty pit, but that is better than the disgusting filth she emptied. She feels purged, and she takes one last look at the guilt and shame she eliminated from her body before flushing the toilet.

She finds her toothbrush and brushes until her gums begin to bleed. She tentatively runs her tongue along her raw gums, pleased when she can taste no remnant of the vomit.

She starts the shower, slowly peeling off her soiled clothes and disposing of them in the hamper. She enters the scalding heat of the shower, closing her eyes as she lets the boiling water rush down her sticky skin.

She could stay this way forever, wrapped in the warm, clean embrace of the water around her, but she reminds herself of her next task. She grabs a bar of soap and begins to vigorously scrub her skin. She scrubs until the water becomes too cold to bear. Her skin is rubbed raw as she steps out of the shower, flinching as she wraps the soft white towel around her.

She enters her bedroom, feeling a sense of comfort as she always does. It is perfect—not a single item is out of place. She takes pride in keeping her life clean and organized. Because of all the turmoil in her unpredictable life, she likes to pretend she at least has some control.

She dresses in a matching pajama set, slipping under her stark white sheets once she is done. Her damp hair presses against her cheek as she falls against the pillow, and the warm scent of her vanilla shampoo comforts her.

Someday, Emma would like to help girls who silently bear their pain the way she does.

She would like to help them in a way she cannot help herself.


End file.
